My one attempt to shoot a film without a permit was almost my last. It was Spring break and my best friend Joe had just called me with excellent news. The remainder of our props had just arrived in the mail and we could now begin shooting. I rushed to his neighborhood with my box of additional props and camera equipment. Upon arrival, Joe opened the packages to reveal three air-soft guns which were main props for the zombie film we were making. We called over the other three gentlemen who were to be the cast and crew and started setting up.
When we exited the house for the first time, I was dressed from head to toe in all black, and Joe in what appeared to be military garb. We went to the neighbors on our immediate left and right to let them know that our weapons were fake and that we were merely shooting a student film. Joe, who lived in the neighborhood, was an active member in the community and many of his neighbors were familiar with him. All of the neighbors we had spoken to expressed that they had no problem with our film. Finding this short range of approvals adequate we began to block out our scenes.
Perhaps a half hour later, I happened to look up into the sky and saw a weather helicopter for a local news channel. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but an intense feeling of dread spread over me and I stopped what I was doing. “WAIT!” I yelled to the crew, all of whom were luckily in hearing range. I looked toward the road and two cop cars from each side of the street were bounding toward us; I immediately put my hands up in the air. It happened in what felt like seconds, six cops exited their vehicles all pointing their guns straight at me. I stood still not moving a muscle, staring down the barrels of six guns, my heart had stopped. The cops took one more look at Joe and I and lowered their weapons.
I threw the prop on the ground when prompted to do so. The crew and I were then searched by each of the police officers. In the middle of my search one of the police officers addressed me directly. Many of the cops laughed at us and told us how stupid we were when they found out we were attempting to film, but not this one. He approached me with genuine fear in his eyes and said to me, “I was going to shoot you. You’re lucky you’re not in a body bag right now.” He explained to us that if we had acquired a film permit they wouldn’t have even needed to come.
At the time, remarkably, I didn’t take his words all too seriously. I thought, “we had our hands up, we made it clear we weren’t a threat.” What cause could he have to shoot a person who has obviously surrendered? A mixture of entitlement and adrenaline made me incorrectly believe that it would have been unjustified for them to have killed me. I now know that I was wrong. A simple permit would have alerted the police of our project prior to filming, preventing the incident altogether.
Sometimes the idea that I should be dead right now keeps me awake at night, leaving me wondering: why am I not? We’ve been hearing stories for ages about people who have been killed without a moment of hesitation for playing with toy guns. Just last month a story of a 22 year-old Ohio man who was killed by police for carrying a BB gun around Wal-Mart with the intention of purchasing it according to MSNBC. Having survived a similar situation can be extremely overwhelming for me as stories like this continue to surface. These things can happen to any of us.
As artists become increasingly ambitious for the sake of their art, many photographers have resorted to trespassing to get a good snapshot. It is becoming more common to hear of writers who has gone to unconventional lengths to get their story. With every artistic avenue come people who want to push the envelope, which is certainly not a bad thing. My advice to anyone wants to make art is this, don’t think what you’re doing can’t get you arrested or killed because you’re wrong: get a permit.
Samantha Allen can be reached at samantha.allen@spartans.ut.edu